


The Demon of Men

by ani_bester



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Demons, Horror, M/M, Other, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_bester/pseuds/ani_bester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seriously, you'd think people in fictional stories would know better than to touch ouija boards. Well Bucky doesn't, and Steve's ghost has to save his lover's soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon of Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thealisonbailey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thealisonbailey).



> Notes: Takes place while Steve was dead. Written Pre-Captain America's return, so I didn't know what was up with Steve when I wrote this.
> 
> I think I borrowed from just about everything I've ever seen to get this to work. Hopefully it does. This was in answer to the following prompt: Captain America; gen/horror/adventure/wuv; Bucky tries any way possible to communicate with Steve on the other side. Things go wrong and Cap's spirit has to save Buck's soul from a fate worse than death.

_Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing. -Elie Wiesel_

It was a stupid idea. Bucky had known it when he'd first picked up the toy. However, he'd spent all afternoon in the living room, facing the TV but paying attention to Cassie and Kate goof around with the ouija board.

Their laughter attracted his attention. Each time the planchette supposedly moved on its own, Kate and Cassie made a sound between laughter and a scream to mark the "supernatural" occurrence. Listening to the two friends brought Bucky's memory back to the war and the down time he and Steve had spent together between battles, just being young.

 _"You'd think after fighting actual vampires we'd be more wary."_

 _" Steve, we're trying to have fun here."_

 _"By goofing around with a thing that can someone demons?"_

 _"Aw c'mon, a modern man like you can't buy into that Houdini tripe, can ya?"_

Bucky smiled, thinking of Steve's face whenever he'd managed to goad Steve into being reckless. The image hung in his mind for a moment, followed by the memory of gentle fingers brushing through his hair and strong arms winding around his waist. Bucky felt goosebumps run down his arms. Without a word, he got up and went to get a glass of water, leaving Cassie and Kate to their laughter filled discussion of exactly what Wiccan would do if he came in and found them with the ouija board.  
.  
When Bucky returned to the living room, the Young Avengers had already left for the night to attend whatever party they had planned, the game hidden away. Bucky shrugged and began to kick around the couch, hoping to unearth the remote, but his gaze kept drifting back to the closet. After another minute of futile remote hunting, Bucky meandered over to the closet of games and opened it. Inside were dozens of brightly colored boxes containing games like Scene It, Trivial Pursuit, and Taboo, all of which, in Bucky's opinion, existed for the sole purpose of rubbing the generation gap in his face.

Of course, normal games like Monopoly hardly ever got played. He began to shut the door when he noticed the Game of Life had been moved. It was another game no one ever seemed to want to play, which made the reason for its movement obvious. Reaching for it, he opened the lid and found, as he expected, the Ouija board.

Pulling it out, Bucky examined the board. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one he and Steve had found. Rather than wood, this board was made of cardboard, and the planchette was made from the cheap plastic that so many things were made of these days. It underscored the mass produced cheese feel of the whole thing. As if _true_ occult objects would be made by Parker Brothers.

Bucky tossed it onto the table anyway and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. Putting the planchette in the center, he rested his fingers on it. After a moment of nothingness, he closed his eyes. He supposed thinking about someone might help, so he thought of Steve and how the man could face down twelve tanks without a flinch, but had needed to be cajoled and dared into trying an ouija board.

The planchette continued to stay perfectly still. Bucky opened one eye and grinned to himself.  
"Steve, you liar, you were pulling on it back then . . . or are you just not up for talking," he joked.

He debated seeing if Toro’s ghost was more into communicating through cheap mass produced games, but the sudden sensation of eyes on his back derailed that train of thought. Bucky shivered and glanced behind him at the door, expecting to see someone there. He blushed a little and sighed in relief when he saw no one.

"Better put this up," he thought, "before anyone does catch me." Bucky reached for the game piece then froze, his hand meters above it.

It wasn't in the center anymore.

He was about to dismiss the event as nothing- he'd likely nudged the table when he'd moved to look out the door- when the planchette glided across the board to the H. Bucky jumped out oft he chair, reaching for his gun out of instinct.

The planchette moved to the I.

Bucky covered his mouth with his hand and watched as the piece slid to the B, then U then C then K.

"Steve?" he whispered in a register he hadn't spoken in since he was 16.

The planchette slid to the "Yes."

Bucky lurched toward the table, scooped the ouija board up, and ran to his room with it.

********

It took Steve Rogers a few moments to adjust to his surroundings, and he tried to recall what he might be doing. He remembered being at peace, but now, he was in the middle of a room that looked familiar enough that he felt foolish for not being able to place it.

His eyes fell over the replica World War II posters and he felt like an idiot. It was his living room. The question then became why was he here. Steve remembered pain and shouting the way he remembered some of his nightmares, but he knew somehow those memories were not dreams.

He'd been dead.

Now he stood in the middle of his own apartment. A feeling of urgency coursed through him as he tried to remember why he had come. He'd decided to come back, he was needed, he knew that, but he couldn't remember why.

Voices caught his attention and he looked toward his couch, Natasha sat there with a black haired young lady -Kate- both of them staring toward the closed door of Steve's old bedroom.

"I'm sorry," Kate muttered, "We should have called you sooner."

"What's going on?" Steve asked, but even as he spoke, he knew they couldn't hear him and that Kate had been addressing Natasha, not him.

Natasha turned to look at Kate and Steve gasped at the bruise that disfigured her face and the gashes across her cheek.

"I've put word out for any magic user to get here as fast as they can." Natasha said. "Other than that, we stay and make sure he does no harm to others."

“He who?” Steve thought frantically, but he already knew.

He saw both women look toward the door right across from them, and then Kate took a deep shuddering breath. "Damn it," she yelled, punching the couch with her fist.

Steve waited to see if the women would provide any more information, but both had fallen into restless silence. All the while, he felt the urgency of the situation as though it were an actual force pulling him toward the room.

He waited only a few seconds more, then went to the door to see if it was locked; however, his hand past right through the handle.

Steve smacked himself on the forehead then walked through the wooden door.

********

"Steve!"

The joyous shout caught him off guard, and he didn't even have time to even process the familiar voice before its owner impacted against his chest and threw strong arms around him. Steve felt a firm thump against his back. He looked down into Bucky's warm, glistening eyes.

"Hey, partner," Steve whispered his mind only one this miraculous moment. His throat felt tight and his eyes began to sting. "You know, I think you've put on a few inches since you last hugged me."

Bucky laughed and it was the best sound Steve could remember hearing in a long time.

"Yeah," he answered, pulling away and rubbing the back of his head as he looked down. He risked a glance upward and Steve could see his lips trembling. "About London, Steve, I-"

Steve gripped Bucky's shoulder, "Don't," he said softly. Then he frowned as his mind got past the moment and brought up reality with a sudden sickening jolt.

"Bucky," Steve said, trying to keep calm, and trying not to think about the fact that Bucky was glowing ever so slightly, "how can you see me? Natasha and Kate couldn't see me."

Bucky shrugged as he gave Steve a careless smile that washed the years from his face for a few seconds, but his words gave Steve a chill.

"I've been talking to you for a few weeks; maybe I just get to see you now."

Steve looked at his friend in confusion, his brow creasing, "Talking? Bucky, I haven't been taking with you. I haven't said a word to you since the battle over the Thames."

Now it was Bucky's turn to look confused. "Sure you have, for the last few weeks, through that-" Bucky's voice ended in a choked gasp and Steve instinctively crouched and only then realized he lacked his Shield.

Past Bucky's pointing finger was _Bucky_. His body, skeletally thin, crouched over an ouija board like a petrified animal entranced by a predator. The carpet around him was stained with filth, and Bucky's legs shook with the strain of supporting the wasted body.

"James-" Steve began and then fell silently as the form in front of him turned its head, revealing the sunken cheeks and pallid skin. Lank, overgrown hair, fell across Bucky's face as his head moved. His lips pulled back into a grotesque grin.

Steve looked to the side and saw that the Bucky he'd greeted – Bucky's ghost or spirit – still stood beside him. That Bucky returned his glance, brown eyes wide with growing horror.

"I don't-" Bucky choked to Steve, "I don't understa-"

"Mine."

Both Steve and Bucky's heads jerked back in the direction the voice had come from. Bucky's body now stood, its arms wrapped around its self, caressing its body.

"What are you?" Steve demanded. "What have you done to Bucky."

"Me? You blame me? So mean spirit, so mean. Not me, him." The thing in Bucky pointed to the apparition of Bucky.

"Him who wanted too much, him who cared too little." It lurched two steps forward and began to giggle. "Easy to take." It took another two steps on the emaciated legs. "Easy to switch."

"Switch," Steve said. He moved between the thing and Bucky. "What do you mean switched?"

The black eyes seemed to stare straight through Steve to Bucky. "What was his is mine and what was mine is his." It pointed and grinned like a child that had accomplished something for the first time.

"See?"

It was Bucky's moan more than the thing's taunt that caused Steve to turn.

Behind him, Bucky was staring at his hand. Inch by inch a dark sludge crept from his fingertips up his arm, devouring him.

"Shit," Bucky screamed, panic raising the pitch of his voice. "Get it off!"

Steve watched as Bucky wiped helplessly at his arm, trying to pull the spreading black off himself, but his efforts only caused the ooze to spread, it's tendrils taking root in other parts ofhis spirit. Steve began to try and wipe it off as well, noting that it only reattached to Bucky, never him.

But all their attempts were useless. Nothing prevented it from spreading.

"Stop, please," Steve begged the grinning demon in front of him as the ooze spread over Bucky's chest and began to move up his face.

"Steve!" Bucky's voice sounded further away and distorted as though he were speaking through on old phone. "STEVE!"

Steve grabbed at the creature but couldn't make any physical contact. Instead, he fell through it. Whirling around, he watched as it walked to Bucky's black and fading form and grinned.

"So lonely," it taunted.

"So easy," it said with a horrid grin.

"So long," it waved as Bucky dissolved into the shadows of the room.

Steve shouted something incoherent and threw himself at the monster. He grabbed at the creature again, even though he knew he couldn't touch it.

But this time he noticed he did grab something. Not Bucky's body, but when his hand came out the other side, something black and oily squirmed in his grasp.

He felt a flood of triumph rush through him. "Get," he shoved his other fist through and visualized grabbing not Bucky, but the black thing inside him. "OUT!"

His hands emerged clutching more dark ooze. The substance squirmed and squealed in his grip. The thing in Bucky's body used Bucky's mouth the shriek obscenities as Steve with everything he had in him.

"Get out," Steve said again, ignoring how more of the creature slipped from his grasp, ignoring how much there seemed to be of it. He had to win this, Bucky's life, and probably more, hung in the balance.

But the creature was grinning now. Bucky's hands wrapped around the dark tendrils, pulling them back.

"Mine," he said again.

"No," Steve bellowed, refusing to let that be true. However, he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, or what he'd do when he got it out.

The creature pulled again, and Steve felt himself lose ground. It began to laugh as more of the black ooze slipped through Steve's fingers.

Then it screamed. A sound like nails against a chalkboard and yowling cats made Steve's ears ring, but he didn't let go. He looked past the thing in Bucky and saw Dr Strange in the middle of a spell. More importantly though, he saw the black ooze began to gush from Bucky's eyes mouth, pooling on the floor in a putrid steaming mess. Steve watched it try to coalesce into something beyond human description, but with a gesture and word, Strange banished it from the room, and probably, Steve guessed and hoped, from this plane of existence

Steve watched and waited for Bucky to open his eyes. To groan and say something funny but self deprecating. Maybe, hopefully, to remember Steve had been there and take comfort in the one last team up, such as it had been.

But, the body didn't stir. Not so much as one eyelid twitched.

"Please no." Steve whispered.

Strange grew still, then blinked. "Steven," Strange said. "I wondered who'd begun to fight it."

"You can hear me?"

"I can't hear you, not without more magic than I can expend right now, but I feel you. Listen to me, Bucky's soul has been cut from his body and consumed by the darkness. The demon in him fed and amplified his obsession, hallowing him out. He'll have been trapped in a realm created by his own unfilled needs."

Steve swore, but continued to listen. Strange was explaining, and that meant there was hope.

"He's probably already forgotten most of who he is, and in less than a week he'll remember nothing but the need for a body, or host. He'll be like the thing you just fought."

Dr. Strange looked directly at Steve. "I won't be able to help him once he's more than halfway changed."

"What can I do?" Steve asked, even though Strange couldn't hear him.

"You can find him and lead him back, Steven," Strange said. "I can't, no one with a body can; his desire to take one back would give us no choice but to destroy him or let him destroy us. But you are already a spirit, and . . . deeply connected to him. You can bring him back here, to his own body, and I can do the rest."

********

Steve had been searching for Bucky for two days now, and the logical part of his mind kept insisting that Dr. Strange had to be wrong, that this was futile, that the seven days would pass, and he'd loose his best friend's soul. His head kept reasoning that Steve could not simply head out into the world and walk straight to whatever dark corner had claimed Bucky. That sounded absurd. Until he'd started searching. As soon as he'd concentrated on finding Bucky, there had been a pull, sometimes as clear as a spoken direction, guiding him step by step.

And now, in front of him, he saw a crouched, huddled figure, shuffling forward, and pausing now and again to mutter to himself.

"Bucky!" Steve called, but the figure didn't respond to him, instead; he kept ambling away. Steve ran to him and put his hand on the figures shoulder to hold him still.

That finally got the figures attention and he turned, giving Steve got a good look at him. The hair that fell in front of his face was grey, his skin ashen and too loose around his wasted body, but this was clearly Bucky.

"Buck," Steve whispered, running his fingers through Bucky's hair in the manner that had always helped pull Bucky away from dark thoughts and back to him. "Are you all right?"

Bucky looked up at him and Steve winced at the emptiness he saw in the eyes that met his.

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asked softly.

"I need to go," Bucky mumbled, trying to pull away from Steve's grip." I’m looking- I need to look for- for. . ." Bucky shook his head and muttered too low for Steve to hear, all the while trying to squirm from Steve's grasp. Steve held on tight.

"Bucky, it's okay. I can help you."

Bucky froze and looked over Steve carefully. "You have a body?"

"Yes," Steve said softly. "Yes I can take you to the one you belong to. You don't have to keep looking."

He saw something flicker in Bucky's eyes when he said ‘belong’, but then Bucky began to struggle again.

"No," he muttered, "No I'm looking for something else, something . . ." his voice cracked in frustration and he looked pleadingly up at Steve. It was the look Steve had seen when he'd brought Bucky back from the Winter Soldier, the look he'd seen when Bucky's friends lay hurt or dying during the war, the look he'd seen the first time Bucky had slit someone's throat.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him tightly, murmuring soothing words about how things would be okay and how he would help anyway he could. Slowly the struggling stopped, and Bucky's soul rested his head against Steve's shoulder with a sigh of contentment.

"This," he murmured, "I was looking for this."

Steve watched as a hint of color returned to Bucky's checks, and his hair began to look more brown than grey.

"You just don't know when to stand down kiddo." Steve whispered, "I told you that would get you into trouble."

Bucky just sighed again and lay still in Steve's arms, letting Steve brush his fingers through his hair.

After a moment, he felt Bucky stir.

"Buck?" Steve asked unable to keep the hope from his voice.

"Steve?" Bucky sounded like he'd just woken from a deep sleep. "Oh god I had such a nightmare I-" He looked groggily around, eyes wide and confused. "The hell are we?"

"Umm," Steve paused and looked around. He'd never taken the time to notice but everything was discolored, too grey or too black, and an eerie silence surrounded them.

"Actually hell might be a good bet partner. You lost to a demon and got trapped in some kindof evil void"

Bucky's eyes widen and Steve could see his memory return. Swearing, Bucky fell into a defensive crouch as though expecting demons to come crawling out of he ground toward them.

Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder to steady him.

"You're fine now. I'm here to lead you home."

Bucky chewed on his lip a moment, then looked up "when we get home, will you stay?" Bucky immediately began to turn red. "Not that- I mean you can't I'm sure, I just thought . . ."

It wasn't an important question at the time, at least in terms of survival, but Steve realized that for Bucky, it was the most important question of all, and Steve's heart broke.

"No," Steve answered, resting his hand heavily on Bucky's shoulder. "No Buck, I can't. I'm not alive anymore partner. If I try to stay, something of this sort would happen to me."

Bucky looked down and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "Why?" he whispered so softly that Steve almost missed the question. "Can't we just stay together here?"

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky again, holding him tight. "You'll die here. You'll be worse than dead here, you already were worse than dead, Buck. And I can't stay here longer than a week anyway."

"I'm so sorry," Bucky murmured into Steve's neck. "So sorry I couldn't face you until-"

Steve silenced him with a soft, kiss. His fingers grazed Bucky's cheek as he pulled away. "You're doing a wonderful job James. I couldn't be more proud."

Bucky nodded, but still looks unsure. Steve ducked to kiss Bucky again, his lips pressed more firmly against Bucky's this time. He lingered longer, searching for some of the smell and tastes he associated with Bucky but there was nothing.

Steve didn't have time to mourn this sterility of the place; however, because Bucky surged against him, deepening the kiss, and with Bucky's movements came a wave of devotion, of gratitude, and Steve realized he could feel the desires that drew Bucky to him

 _We're both souls_ , Steve realized. Breaking to breath, Steve concentrated on his love and pride, and all the feelings he couldn't find words to express. When he brought his mouth to Bucky's again, he concentrated on "pushing" those feeling into Bucky. He felt Bucky's arms tighten around him, heard him gasp, and then heard that gasp dissolve into a moan.

Steve held Bucky as tight as he could until, finally they broke the kiss.

Bucky straightened first, regaining the posture the army had drilled into him. He looked at Steve for several long seconds and then shook his head. "I guess I can go home now."

Steve ruffled Bucky's hair, knowing how much it annoyed him. "Glad you agree, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky smiled and swatted Steve' hand away. Then, he looked about as though he expected to see a magical door appear in the air. When one didn't, he glanced back to Steve eyebrows raised. "So, home?"

"That's the hard part. For you."

"Ah, I shoulda figured I didn't get to just click my heels." Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, then folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, what do I have to do."

Steve put his hand on Bucky's back and drew him closer. "Walk in the direction I point until you see my old apartment and enter the room with Dr. Strange, -uh and that would be the living room."

Bucky grinned, revealing the cocky young man Steve had grown to love a lifetime ago. "Hell, that's about as easy as clicking my heels. Want to catch up as we go? Even if I won't remember, maybe part of me will know we talked and-"

"I can't go with you Bucky."

Bucky froze than held up his hands, shaking his head. "NO! Hell no, Steve. You are not trading yourself for me. That-"

"Isn't what's happening." Steve looked at Bucky, as though he truly were a Captain and Bucky just a private. "You got in this mess by being obsessed Bucky. Obsessed with me. You need to be unobsessed to leave"

Bucky groaned. "Well thanks for the kiss. That really helped with this Steve."

"It was a kiss worth being damned for, huh?" Giving Bucky a wary smile, but hoping the younger man understood the gravity of his situation.

Bucky took an exaggerated pose of thinking then shook his head, "Not really no, sorry, Steve."

Steve grinned, but any humorous return died unspoken when he saw darkness beginning to grow on the tips of Bucky's fingers again. He took Bucky's hand and caressed those fingers.

"You need to walk straight in the direction I point, Bucky, and no matter what," he squeezed Bucky's hand, "do not look back."

"Don't look back?" Buck repeated his voice somewhere between disbelief and annoyance. "You're shitting me."

His entire hand had lost color now.

"No," Steve said, falling fully into his leader persona, "If you look back, you'll be lost, Buck. Forever this time. Do you understand me?"

Bucky looked as though his stomach were upset, but he nodded. Then gave a weak grin and saluted, “Sir, yes sir," he said, trying to force humor into situation.

Steve took one last look at his friend, then took Bucky by the shoulders and whirled him around so Bucky's back was to him.

"Go James, go now before you can't." He bent and kissed the nape of Bucky's neck, then pointed straight ahead. "For the love of all, James Barnes, don't look back." Bucky nodded, then took his first step,

"I've got this." Bucky whispered, and took another shaky step forward. Then another.

Steve watched as James faded into the distance, a plea of "Don't look back" echoing through his mind.

********

Steve stood outside the New Avengers home, waiting with baited breath, or as much breath as spirit could manage, for any sign. He didn't know if Bucky made it, and the wards Strange had set up to keep roaming unspeakables from possessing Bucky's body kept Steve out as well.

As minutes passed and Steve heard nothing, he felt his stomach clench in is gut and his throat tighten. "Please," he begged, "Please, he can't have looked back."

Steve's mind kept taunting him with all the legends, Orpheus, Lot's wife, even half remembered myths from Asia, and everyone _always_ looked back.

Steve's insides clenched tighter, and his hands slowly curled into fists, "Please," he whispered.

A shout from inside broke Steve's morbid thoughts, and all the worry and fear he'd felt while haunting the outside of the Avengers home was released in one single whoop.

The cries and shouts from inside were joyous, welcoming, and happy. Sharon's familiar laughter raised above them all, followed by Clint, laughing and threatening to kill Bucky if he ever did anything so dumb again while Sam agreed with Clint’s threats and made a few of his own in a voice thick with relief. Steve heard Natasha too, berating and teasing, and laughing, her accent thicker than normal and her voice broken by strange hitching sounds.

Steve prepared to leave, but then noticed the door opening.

Bucky stood just inside gazing out into the night. He still looked ill, but he was alive. Steve felt his stomach unclench, and he smiled, happy to take in this one last look at Bucky.

Steve watched as Natasha came up behind Buck and whispered something against his ear.

Bucky gave her a confused look, then shook his head.

"Nothing Nat, no worries, only- I feel like something important was out here," he murmured.

Steve saw Bucky give her the sheepish grin that Steve knew so well, and shrug his shoulders dismissively, before putting his arm around her waist and bending to kiss her.

"Be happy, Buck," Steve whispered, watching as the door closed.

He turned to go, finally feeling at peace again.

-End


End file.
